


A Fawn

by Stricklanderkin (bl00dw1tch)



Category: Tales of Arcadia (Cartoons), Trollhunters - Daniel Kraus & Guillermo del Toro
Genre: Abuse, Apologies, Blackmail, F/M, M/M, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Relationship(s), Protectiveness, Redemption, Sexual Abuse, Stalking, Threats, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-07 20:57:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20982269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bl00dw1tch/pseuds/Stricklanderkin
Summary: Angor got his ring back. Sweet!Now Angor can get his revenge on Strickler. Sweet!Strickler has a baby. Sweet!Wait. Angor doesn't want to kill kids. Not so sweet.All well, he can get payback in other ways.





	A Fawn

A fawn. 

A  _ fawn. _

The changeling had a fawn the whole time he'd been under his control, yet somehow now the assassin had never known. The little thing had only shown its face a week into Angor's stalking of Strickler's home after the fact, at that--Impressively sneaky.

He supposed Strickler deserved a bit of credit--especially given how happy and non-neglected the little purple creature seemed, snuggled up with its mother as giggly as can be, snacking on popcorn as they watched a movie in the living room.

To think that bastard had been a  ** _mother_ ** the whole time. Angor snorted, turning his gaze from the pair to the screen they watched, thumbing the ring on his hand absentmindedly. It was one of the animations the changeling liked--the one with the little deer and rabbit. How horribly ironic.

Tiny, purple, and fuzzy, with slightly polished skin. It's eyes would likely grow terrifying in it's prime--a ghastly mix of primal red and changeling yellow. The sprouting buds of her horns stood in as eyebrows, thick and ridged in a way quite unlike it's mother's sleek, angular set. Shorter ears, stubbier toes and nails--whoever the father was, they were nothing like Strickler. Someone strong, large, and intimidating. A  _ proper _ troll.

Angor pulls back farther into the darkness of the backyard when the changeling pauses the movie and gets up. He wraps the little fawn in his blanket, the child giggling in delight as it is cocooned in the soft material. Strickler gives it one last little kiss on the head before leaving it, going into the kitchen, presumably for more snacks. 

Angor takes the moment to reconsider his goals here. 

He'd come here for one reason--to kill Strickler--nothing more, nothing less. 

But now, the fawn… 

Angor could not kill it. 

Not a child so young, smaller even than even the Trollhunter. And yet he could not leave it an orphan, either. No troll would take it if they figured out it's heritage, and something in him doubted other changelings would, either. Angor growls under his breath. 

So the Changeling lives then. How infuriating.

He is pulled away from his thoughts when Strickler comes back to the couch with another bowl of popcorn. The fawn claws its way out of the blanket swaddle, climbing up and reaching for the bowl, it's tail wagging wildly. 

The changeling sits down and lifts it by the scruff to put in his lap, pulling the blanket over their legs before setting the bowl where it could be reached, and then resuming the movie. 

The Assassin settled against the porch railing and stayed to watch a while longer--up until Strickler had finally begun to nod off.

The movie played on as Strickler shifted to lay down on the couch. Bowl placed on the table, he grabbed the equally tired pup and hugged her close to his chest, tilting and shuffling till he was finally comfy enough to close his eyes. He nuzzled his daughter's head gently, and gave the spot a light kiss as well.

Angor felt a twinge in his gut at the sight of the gesture. A guilt over intruding on such a private moment, warring silently against his stalking instincts. He should not be watching this, but what else could he be meant to do? It's not like he came here to watch on  _ purpose _ \--this was an accident. 

Just as was him waiting for the two to fall asleep. Just as was him carefully prying open the sliding back door to creep inside. Just as was him stepping over to get a closer look at them as they rested.

All mistakes and accidents, one after the other.

He stood on the other side of the coffee table, crossing his arms as he considered the gently breathing figures for a moment. He was becoming aware, now, of why it had captured his attention--it had been decades since he'd last seen a young whelp like this, let alone  _ with _ its mother. He was soothed by it--even if it was the spawn of a cruel changeling. 

A cruel changeling seeming more at peace now than Angor had ever seen before--snout buried into his daughter's hair, but Angor could still see the telltale lift of his cheeks. He was smiling in his sleep. The assassin almost found it absurd, but the thought flitted away as quick as it came. This wasn't absurd--any mother who had once been in Strickler's tense position would be relieved to be free of those anxieties and precautions. Free of those fears. 

Angor's frown deepened. He'd come here to kill the changeling, and were the child not there, he would have done so. Strickler had  _ zero _ fears or precautions in place. If Angor had been a troll with less morals…

The changeling's idiocy ceases to amaze him. The would both be dead within a year at this rate, even if not by his hand. Angor suppresses the growl of frustration, and stands back up. 

He will protect them. Just for now.

Just until they learn to protect themselves. 

He made his way to the back door, glancing over his shoulder before stepping out, letting himself smile bitterly.

At least now he'll have something interesting to do for the next few years.


End file.
